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User blog:BonnieLizzie/Welcome (Back) to Bullworth
“Dr. Crabblesnitch?” The mocha-suited man stood in front of his desk, waiting with his hands clasped neatly in front of him. He still carried a schoolmarmy air about him, something he clearly took pride in. His thick, hooked nose had reddened with rosacea, and his hairline was steadily creeping back on his scalp to make room for a few more hidden creases on his forehead. Dry lips that had been practising a scowl for the last couple of decades slowly tipped upwards into an awkward smile. He raised his hand by way of greeting, gesturing for his visitor to step further into his office. “Randall,” his throaty voice had hardly changed through the years, perhaps only becoming hoarser, “it is good to see you back in Bullworth, boy.” Randy Douglas closed the door behind him, eying the room before settling his somewhat skeptical gaze on Crabblesnitch’s frown-lined face. “Mr. Douglas, if you don’t mind.” He sauntered toward Crabblesnitch, shaking an outstretched hand twice with a strong grip. “I’m not exactly your student anymore, you know.” “Oh, you hardly were to begin with, boy.” Crabblesnitch’s chortle came from his chest before he cleared his throat. Somewhat uncomfortably, he motioned to Randy’s left arm – or, rather, the lack thereof it. “I… had heard what happened. I didn’t think--… I thought you’d left town after that. I didn’t hear anything of you for a long time.” “I stuck around.” Randy knew what Crabblesnitch really meant by that. Something more along the lines of 'I thought you’d finally gotten yourself killed.' He was shocked Crabblesnitch had the delicacy to hold back on saying just that, too. But Randy didn’t address it. Instead, he absently scratched his nose with the knuckle of his index finger and shrugged. “Did a little soul-searching, I guess you could say.” “Well,” Crabblesnitch grabbed a few papers off his desk that were clipped together, flipping through to the third page. “I see you certainly have. No lasting troubles with the law in the last decade and a half, but I see you spent two years in Happy Volts. What is that about, my boy?” “Soul-searching, of course.” “Mhm…” Crabblesnitch’s eyes scanned the papers while he read its contents, his wiry eyebrows raised. “Yes, ‘soul-searching’ indeed.” He lowered the pages and looked at Randy from under his brows. “I don’t tend to bother with the indignity of prying into the private lives of my coworkers, but recent – and past – events in Bullworth history have prompted a sort of hypervigilance from me in that subject. I see a stamp of release from an asylum, I feel intrigue and, more importantly, concern. Therefore, I am compelled to dig deeper.” “It was… nothing. Really. I just--… I’d divorced and hit me pretty hard. I dealt with it the wrong way… y’know. And I just needed help.” “As one does.” Crabblesnitch dropped the papers back onto his desk before linking his fingers behind his back. He looked down his hooked nose at Randy, surveying him with the kind of scrutiny one gives a shirt they’re trying to decide if they want to wear or not. His chest was puffed out proudly, but trepidation permeated through his demeanour. He said “I want you to understand, Ra—ah, Mr. Douglas… that your business is yours alone. But, given our peculiar history, I’m inclined to be cautious with you. And, regardless of any bias accusations that may arise from it, I am partial to give you a chance. Should it come to light, however, that you are not fit for the position, mentally, psychologically, or emotionally, I will not hesitate to remove you from it.” He wagged a finger, striking a weird feeling of nostalgia into Randy. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your proclivity for rule-breaking.” “I imagine it would be hard to forget that. But… I’ve outgrown that. I’m not that kid you used to yell at every day, sir.” Crabblesnitch gave a throaty chuckle. “Yes, I reckon you’ve had a few years to kick those habits.” He inhaled, exhaled contentedly. “Very well, then. Ms. Denvers has given you the full tour, I assume? The campus has made great changes since you were last here. You’ve settled back in?” “I’m… about as settled in as a guy can be on his first day, sure.” “Excellent.” Crabblesnitch checked the watch on his wrist. “The school assembly will be in 20 minutes, my boy. Do not be late.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” “I should hope not.” Crabblesnitch watched Randy head for the double doors of the office. “Randy, it—” He cut himself off, corrected himself. “Mr. Douglas, it’s good to see you back. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m proud that you’ve decided to do something so meaningful as make a positive impact on hundreds of lives here at Bullworth. Come by my office after school hours. We can properly catch up.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 22 Years Ago -'' “Randall Douglas!” “Crabblesnitch?!” Randy dropped the student he’d been gripping by their shirt's collar and holding up against a row of lockers. The student, a scrawny, zit-faced nobody in a dark emerald sweater, scrambled to his feet. Randy took a quick step away from him, distancing himself from the crime. “I would ask what you were doing out of class, but it is abundantly clear that you already have an answer for that.” Crabblesnitch grabbed Randy by his arm, pulling him to his side. He jerked a finger at the other student. “And you – what are you doing out of class?” “I was— ah!” The kid flinched back as though he’d been struck when Randy threw a crude gesture at him. “I was just getting my English textbook, Dr. Crabblesnitch! Honest!” The scrawny student dug into the pockets of his baggy slacks, pulling out a crumpled piece of lined paper. He shoved it towards Crabblesnitch. “Here’s my hall pass! See?” Crabblesnitch looked over the note. Somewhat begrudgingly, he handed the note back once he saw it was signed. “Quit lagging around then, Beau. Get back to your class – quickly now.” As Beau gathered his things off the floor and started down the hall, Crabblesnitch yelled after him “But no running!” Beau slowed down to an expeditious speed walk. Satisfied, Crabblesnitch began dragging Randy down the hall toward the main office. “And you come with me. You’re going to go see Principal Hartwick about some after-school detention, then you’re going to go back to class.” “Detention?!” Randy guffawed indignanty, pulling back on his arm. “Did I stutter, boy?” Randy managed to wrench his arm away, stopping in the hall. “Come on, it’s just art. There’s only 20 minutes left, and it's not like we do anything other than scribble on some paper! Why not just forget you saw me here, huh?” Crabblesnitch rounded on him with a frustrated glare. “It wouldn’t be so problematic had you not physically assaulted another student. And if you plan to bribe me, you can just forget about it.” “What’s holding you back this ''time?” Crabblesnitch’s eyes narrowed into revolted slits. “The issue, young Douglas, is that I see your character dissolving into a pile of money garnished by an expensive sweater. I simply won’t stand around and allow that to happen. Not to one of ''my ''students.” “Suddenly you have a moral compass, is that what it is?” Crabblesnitch’s expression didn’t falter. “Douglas,” he growled through his teeth, “no more of this. I mean it. Do you understand me?” “I get you. Crystal clear and all that garbage,” Randy waved Crabblesnitch off, who was towering over him with his arms folded across his chest. “But if you’re not careful, Crabblesnitch, someone’s not gonna find a chunky cheque in the mail from someone else’s daddy next month.” Randy gave him a smarmy grin. “Do ''you understand me?” Crabblesnitch remained completely still, deliberating the words of this lanky teenager with visible distaste. And then he lifted his cleft chin, his nose crinkling in disgust. “Go,” he pointed toward the art room. “Attend the rest of today’s classes. And do not make me have to give you this talk again.” “I knew you were alright, Doc…” Randy’s smarm was immediately replaced with a charming, beaming smile. He gave Crabblesnitch’s arm a pat, pointing a finger at the teacher. “But don’t make me give you this talk again. Get me? I’m sure you do.” “Get.” “I’m going, I’m going…” Randy rolled his eyes. There was nothing he hated more than being lectured, especially by the fools who called themselves teachers at Bullworth. They were all so up their own assholes about it. Crabblesnitch was no exception. Under his breath, Randy muttered “Now run back to Hartwick and get yourself a pat on the head…” As he was rounding the corner of the hallway, Crabblesnitch acridly called “''I heard that''.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ''Several Days Later – Troy Harrington sat down heavily in the sand. He dusted his palms off and set his elbows on his knees. “Sorry, Randy. You know how it is.” The apology felt-half-hearted, like it was just part of the process and not something that actually came from his heart. Didn’t seem like much was coming from this bastard’s heart as of late anyways. “I mean, I told you it wasn’t going to get very far to begin with. Remember? My parents want me to marry Carmen.” “Carmen? Carmen Ainsworth?” Randy turned on heel in the sand. Behind him, the moonlit lake gently lapped at the little sandy outcrop they had agreed to meet at. He glared at Troy with fire in his eyes. The indifferent look on the Harrington’s stupidly perfect face, frame by his stupidly perfect locks of blond hair, only served to infuriate Randy further. “Troy, she’s your cousin.” “Well, half-cousin, actually. Our parents want us to marry. They’re looking to merge the—” “I don’t really give a shit about what they ''want,” Randy snapped in the most acerbic tone he could muster, trying not to let his voice crack with emotion. “That’s ''crap, and we both know it.” “No. What’s crap is that if I don’t do this, I’ll lose my inheritance. You of all people can understand that I—” “Who cares about the money, Troy?” Randy dropped to his knees in front of the Harrington. He put his hands over Troy’s. “We’re smart. We’re capable. We can make money on our own.” Troy’s blue eyes flicked down to their hands. Shooting Randy an annoyed look, he pulled his hands away. “Three things,” he started dryly as he slid back a foot. Randy fell back on his heels dejectedly. “First of all, I ''care about the money. It’s mine, and it’s owed to ''me. Second of all, we’re not even old enough to get full-time employment, Randy. And, not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m sort of acclimated to a certain lifestyle. There isn’t a job you or I could get out of high school to keep up with that lifestyle. Not unless you’ve started pulling golden eggs out of your freckled ass.” Troy’s eyes flashed. “Third of all, and most importantly, I’d wager… I’m not a fag. Alright?” Randy winced as though the word itself had lunged at him. “We’re young, Randy,” Troy continued without softening his tone, “so this sorta thing is… OK, for the most part. It’s understandable, at least. But I’m going to be 18 in a month. That’s a big wake-up call. I can’t be playing Boyfriend with you forever. We have to grow up some day, and I decided that time for me is now.” Randy went silent, staring at Troy with such offended incredulousness that Troy started to seem a little nervous. “This was just some fun game for you?” Randy finally snarled. “Make-belief? Did you think we were playing House all this time?” “We were having fun, sure. It was my understanding that we were just occupying each other’s time. Like I said, I was clear from the start that this wasn’t a long-term relationship.” “Two and a half years seems pretty damn long to me, Troy.” “Well, everyone has to move on eventually, Randy. You’ll find someone new and she will make you very happy. Maybe you’ll have a kid or two, and—” “I don’t want a wife, Troy. You aren’t listening to me.” Troy let out a ridiculous sigh, throwing his eyes up in a deriding motion. “Don’t say it. Save us both the embarrassment and just don’t say it.” “I’m going to say it, Troy. All that nonsense about ‘growing up,’ we both know that’s bullshit. I don’t want a wife – I want you.” Troy let out a disgusted snort and Randy held his hands out in an ‘oh well’ motion. “I guess I’m just a big fag, right, Troy? Just a big, cliched, stupid faggot. I’m sorry that I just want to be happy. A woman won’t make me happy.” “OK, this is…” Troy pushed himself to his feet, swiping the sand off the seat of his pants. “This is going in circles. If you’re going to insist on being so damn melodramatic, then I suppose I’ll just have to leave you to your vagina.” “Troy, you bastard.” “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say! I’m sorry you got your hopes up, but it was your own fault. I was clear from the beginning about why this wasn’t a permanent fling. You knew what you were getting into, Randy, you can’t blame me for that. Now… get up. If you keep acting like a girl, you’re going to turn into one. Although, judging by your tastes, maybe that would work out better for you in the long-run.” Randy hurried to his feet, neglecting the sand that clung to his pantlegs. “You’re a snake, you know that? A real snake.” Troy shrugged. “It’s nothing personal. You were fun and all – this all was, up until now. But, like I said, I’m not queer. That’s all there is to it. It’s not sustainable, not as a lifestyle, and certainly not if my parents find out and decide I’m no longer deserving of the money in my bank account.” “''It’s just money''.” “Is that so? So, why doesn’t your father seem to know about us?” “Not because of the money, that’s for damn sure. I don’t care if takes it away from me. Odds are, he’s going to anyways. But it doesn’t matter to me – all it’s ever done is make people hate ''me.” “People hate other people with power, Randy. Just look at it that way.” Troy demurred, but reached out and patted Randy on the shoulder. He dropped his hand and lifted one shoulder in a passive shrug. “You had to have seen the coming for a few weeks, now. It’s not the end of the world. Nothing else has changed. You’ll get over it, move on, find a new fixation. Trust me.” As Troy turned and started the small hike back up the sloped hill toward to the sidewalk that swept past the front gates of the academy, Randy laughed. Perhaps it came out a little too hysterically, as suggested when Troy threw a concerned glance back at him before hurrying onto the dark road. “Trust you?” Randy called after him, stumbling up the hill. “You’re a heartless ''bitch! I’m sure you’ll have a fine enough time moving on, what with your six girlfriends a year and your bigoted, inbred family!” Knowing he was no longer being heard, Randy let out a yell of frustration. “Troy fucking Harrington!” He sent up several sprays of sand, kicking at the ground until he was out of breath. For about twenty minutes, Randy stood at the shoreline, staring into the inky waters in walk felt like a catatonic state. He tried to cool down before heading back onto the main road, but a phantom pain twisted around inside his chest. He didn’t want to be seen on the verge of tears by his peers, but he just wanted to go back to the Harrington House and bawl his eyes out in his room. Instead, he sulked across the bridge and wandered around town. Of course, there weren’t any stores open, short of Come Hither, in which Randy could do nothing but get kicked out for being a minor. The theatre closed hours ago, and the corner stores had gone lights out. So, he wandered around the dimly lit streets for a while, kicking rusted cans across the streets and dwelling on his own woes and heartaches through his tears. After about an hour, when Randy started to get tired, he collapsed onto one of the benches in the town square. He slumped back and sat there for a long while, his eyes glazed over and locked on the ground at his feet. He wasn’t really sure how much time passed while he sat on that bench, but it felt like about a half an hour went by before his silent heartbreak was interrupted. Someone approached him at the bench, stepping into his peripheral with a pair of scuffed up black boots. Randy jumped and pressed himself back in the bench, looking this stranger up and down with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ…” he breathed, setting a hand over his heart. The stranger, in his mid or late 20s, tilted his head at Randy. “Jesse, actually.” Coincidentally enough, the guy, sporting a full spartan-style beard, had a sort of Jesus-y look to him. Long, oily hair, gaunt cheeks, and a emaciated frame. He had on a ridiculously oversized knitted sweater and loose jeans that would’ve fit him just fine if he actually filled out his frame. He stuck his hands casually in his front jean pockets. Randy blinked nervously up at the man. “I, uh… don’t have any change. Sorry.” “Wasn’t gonna ask you for change.” “Then I don’t have anything for you to steal, so you can just—” “Whoa, whoa… what’s your problem?” This stranger, Jesse, tucked his chin back like he was offended, putting his hands out defensively. “Hey, I was just… curious, alright? Wanted to know if you were alright.” “Oh, I’m sure. How about you just mind your own business and try to sell whatever it is you sell, OK?” Jesse suddenly looked around nervously. “W-what?” “Please don’t act dumb. I feel stupid enough as is, tonight, I don’t need anyone else to contribute to that.” “Well… I mean… I’ve got some grass, if that’s what you want—” “You know what I really want, Jesse?” Randy hopped to his feet. He prodded Jesse’s chest. “I want to feel… complete again. My heart is broken. I’m alone. I have no one and no''thing''…” Jesse took a surprised step back, rubbing his chest were Randy jabbed with his finger. “A little somethin’ to smoke might help you relax, if that’s what you mea—” “Fuck you! What do I look like? Some two-dollar crackwhore?” “I-… I don’t… What are you talkin’ about?” Randy’s lips trembled. He let out a shuddering sob and slung his arms around Jesse’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m just… so angry. So… heartbroken... I feel used and abandoned, Jesse…” “Oh.” Jesse gingerly patted Randy’s back. “I, uh… What happened, man?” Randy took a moment to gather himself, to turn off the water works as best he could. He thought he was out of tears, but apparently not. “I’m…” he breathed, staring at nothing in particular down the dark streets behind Jesse, “… unlovable.” He let go of this stranger and stepped back. “I thought that I had something real, but… well, that relationship is dead in the water.” “That sucks, man. I’m sorry.” “Sure…” “Do you, ah… still want somethin’ to smoke?” “I don’t see why the hell not.” “Cool, cool.” “You smell awfully, Jesse.” “Yeah.” “Let’s go smoke something and hope I didn’t get lice off of you.” “Sure, but… together?” “I don’t want to be alone, right now.” “You look a little young. I’m not really—” “Obviously I’m old enough that you’d sell me street drugs, you filthy reprobate. I’m not interested in anything else. I just don’t want to be alone. Is that so much to ask for?” “I- I guess not.” Jesse frowned thoughtfully. Randy guessed it burned a few brain cells for Jesse to string together a few coherent thoughts at that moment. The guy looked like he was already blitzed out of his mind on something. “Hey,” Jesse started once his two remaining brain cells made contact, “I got some friends in Blue Skies. Closer to your age, always doin’ something. You could hang with them for a bit. There’s a few girls—” “I’m not interested in girls, right now…” Randy interrupted sourly. “Let’s go see your friends, see if I can’t make a few myself.” He pulled off his Aquaberry Vest and ditched it on the bench. When Jesse gave him a strange side-eyed look, Randy pointedly motioned at it. “What, you think it’s a good idea running around Blue Skies in that? It’s a sure way to get jumped. Now, please… lead the way, my new friend.” . . . . . . Randy met Angel Taylor in Jesse’s little smoke circle. She was maybe two years older than him, a tall, sturdy blonde with crooked teeth, and deep brown eyes. Somehow, she’d managed to convince Randy out on a few dates. Of course, it was out of pity, her attempts to distract Randy from the break-up with Troy. The dates weren’t anything romantically charged, Randy thought. They’d get high off the flavour of the day, usually too high, and fuck around in town for a while. One day, she looked at Randy and told him she loved him. Randy didn’t know what else to do but reciprocate with an obligatory “I love you too, Angel.” He didn’t know why. It always felt empty. But it seemed to make her happy. Of course, Jesse was the one supplying them with their muses. Some days they were a smoke circle. Other days they were a snort circle. Every so often he’d show up with a full sheet of X – though he’d call it something different every time he came to them with it – and they’d go fucking nuts, lose track of half the week. Because he had the most money and the least inhibitions, Randy was always the one buying the ‘goodies’ for his newfound friends, making himself Jesse’s new favourite person. It didn’t take long before Randy’s scholarly attendance suffered for it all. A couple months at the most was when it became blindingly obvious that there was something preoccupying most of Randy’s time and energy. Some teachers noticed. Some of them threatened to call his father and inform him that Randy would fail his classes if he continued on the road he was on. Randy would threaten to rescind their monthly envelopes of money if they didn’t start pumping out passing grades for him. Begrudgingly, most of them complied, or left it alone at the very least. Dr. Crabblesnitch wasn’t so compliant to these threats. It was mostly because he saw first-hand what was really happening. The first time Crabblesnitch caught him, Randy was in the boy’s washroom, hunched over a toilet. A fellow student had walked in on him violently throwing up and had run to get the nearest teacher they could grab. Randy’s luck, it had to be old Crabblesnitch. “You are a problem child,” he hissed through his teeth as he lugged Randy to his feet. “You’re a problem child now, Douglas, but that can be changed if you just start thinking. That massive thing between your shoulders isn't just a paper weight!” As Crabblesnitch walked Randy to the teacher’s lounge, shielding him from the prying eyes of other students, Randy remembered wanting to argue about it. But he felt too nauseous to even walk properly, let alone speak with any lucidity. His brain was going a mile a minute, but it felt like it was going in circles, occasionally shutting down just to start back up at racing speed. The only thing he was able to do was let Crabblesnitch hide him away in the bathroom of the teacher’s lounge for two hours, one of which Crabblesnitch waited by Randy to ensure he wouldn’t choke on his own sick. When Crabblesnitch let him out, he dragged Randy to the infirmary to have an eye kept on him while the school day wrapped up. Once classes were done, Crabblesnitch checked in on Randy once more to see if he’d sobered up at all. There was a back and forth exchange in which Crabblesnitch tried to figure out what Randy took and why he took so much of it, but it ended in an argument. Randy demanded that Crabblesnitch leave, sobbed for an hour, and then returned to Harrington House to sleep for the next 13 hours. Neither he nor Crabblesnitch talked about the incident again after that, but it was the first incident that raised all of Crabblesnitch's red flags. The second time, Crabblesnitch was in town and found Randy passed out on a bench. Apparently, he was so worried that Randy had overdosed right here that he pulled his car to the curb and left it running just to check on Randy. In all honesty, Randy had just fallen asleep while he was waiting for Angel to get back from the convenience store with something for them to eat. Appalled at Randy’s nonchalance, Crabblesnitch quietly scolded him and dolled out a stern warning about being so blatantly inebriated in such a busy part of town. Randy laughed and told Crabblesnitch that his authority had nothing over Randy outside of the school campus, wearing a dazed sneer. Crabblesnitch looked like he could’ve strangled Randy right then and there, but instead went through the trouble of finding Angel and driving them both into Blue Skies so that they wouldn’t get picked up by the regular police cruisers. There were a few other times, mostly inconsequential moments that dotted the spells between the bigger instances that really seemed to shake Crabblesnitch. Times when Randy would show up to class high, or when he’d get caught smoking on school grounds, or when he’d see things that weren’t actually real. His peers at Harrington House would rib him for his sudden muses. He had a distinct memory of Troy saying “See, Randy? I told you you’d find a new fixation.” If Randy had been in any fit state, he would’ve slugged Troy for that. The problem was that Randy had no proper gauge. His Blue Skies ‘friends’ were already burnt-out losers who quit school to pursue their muses full time. Their resistances were more than established, and Randy had tried to keep up with them from day one. It was pushing his body to extremes. Some days, he’d forget to eat, and those days would turn into nearly a week. Sometimes he’d eat too much. Sometimes he’d go for days without sleep, or he’d sleep for a day straight. Some days, he was walking on a road of clouds on a sunny day, and other days he felt frail enough to snap like a matchstick. He felt the consequences of what he was doing, but the pros – the distraction, the ability to feel or not feel, the rush – he felt like it outweighed those cons. And, one day, he really felt those consequences. The third time Crabblesnitch caught Randy was mite bit more serious. It was the deep-end off of which Randy leapt, dragging Crabblesnitch after him. Randy went into cardiac arrest in class after an episode of terrifying visions. Crabblesnitch had to perform CPR on him until an ambulance showed up. They took Crabblesnitch with them to the hospital to get an account of what happened. Afterward, he stuck around – only so that he could scold Randy once he was lucid enough to actually digest it. “I’m done, Douglas!” Randy would’ve flinched at Crabblesnitch’s hoarse voice yelling at him if he’d had the capacity for it. But he didn’t. So, he sat on his hospital bed limply, watching Crabblesnitch slam shut the door to Randy’s room and glare at him with tired, bugged-out eyes. His suit jacket was off and folded on the visitor’s couch on the other side of the room, the sleeves of his button-up dress-shirt were rolled up to his elbows. He looked like a damn mess, in a state Randy had never thought possible for a man who carried himself with such poise and control. It almost made him seem less like Randy’s teacher and more like a regular human being. “If you want to destroy yourself so badly, then do it already. But you have to stop finding ways to drag me down with you!” Randy, still far too out of it to having a compelling argument, groggily waved off Crabblesnitch with a limp-wristed hand as though he wanted him to go away. He didn’t really. He didn’t want to be alone. But being yelled at at that moment was like being kicked while he was down. It was insult to injury, not that he could articulate that. “Oh, no.” Crabblesnitch huffed in disbelief, setting his hands on his hips. “No, you don’t get to dust me off, not this time. Look at yourself, boy – you’re a mess!” “E-“ Randy cleared his throat, continuing to make a ‘go away’ motion with his hand. “Eat my—” “Shut up, boy, just shut up. For once in your life, keep your mouth closed and just listen to me, really listen.” When Crabblesnitch was satisfied with Randy’s silence, he let out a long, exhausted sigh. He observed Randy a moment longer, the frustration in his tired eyes turning to something broaching pleading concern. “I don’t know what this is, Douglas. I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he said, “but I do know one thing for sure. You’re not just a problem child anymore. You’re a lost cause, or this close to being one, anyways. And I wish you’d just do something about, whether that’s asking for help or leaving the school out of it.” “I don’t need anything from that shithole…” “You need help,” Crabblesnitch insisted, his tone hard with an edge to it. “You need some serious help.” From the foot of the hospital bed, he scanned Randy’s face, shaking his head ever-so-slightly without realizing that’s what he was doing. “You’ve hit rock bottom, my boy. Rock bottom.” “I have my whole life ahead of me…” Randy scoffed through a mumble. “If I get rock bottom outta the way now, I won’t have to worry about it later.” “No. That’s just the lie every young delinquent tells themselves on their first ride to prison. It makes stupid criminals with small brains feel better about their lives once they’ve gone to shit. But, and the truth is, if you hit rock bottom now, you’ll just be forced to find a new low to hit. Not if you don’t clean up your damn act now.” Randy slowly sat up in the hospital bed, watching the bedraggled man. Crabblesnitch’s eyes were dark, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Surely, there was a new set of creases cemented on his face that hadn’t been there 24-hours earlier, which appeared to be the same amount of time that someone has been keeping him up with a cattle prod. But what struck Randy the most was his tone. Usually reserved and erudite, befitting of a man who carried himself so proudly, Crabblesnitch’s tone sounded as stressed and frayed as he himself looked, only a hint of his former poise shining through to keep him together. He couldn’t be blamed, of course. One of his students inhaled so much cocaine during lunch that they went into cardiac arrest in the middle of a lecture about King Louis XIV. If that wasn’t a PR nightmare, Randy didn’t know what was. Sounding exhausted, almost defeated, Crabblesnitch tiredly announced “I called for your father.” That had Randy sitting up instantly. “You what?” “He almost lost his son. Any parent has the right as a guardian to know what happened, and they have a right to be here for such an instance.” “Doesn’t mean you have to tell him!” “I can’t stay here or watch over you until you’re discharged – that should be your father’s duty. I have a lot of students I have to worry about, Douglas. You’re not the most important one, you’re simply the one causing the most problems.” “Then you should’ve fuckin’ let me choke, good Lord!” Crabblesnitch tucked his chin back, offended. Then he leaned forward, gripping the footboard of the bed, narrowing his eyes at Randy. “You have this wildly delusional concept that the world revolves around you, Douglas. But if you stopped to think for even just one second, you’d realize that letting you accomplish whatever it is you’re shooting for with this self abuse would put me on the line, too. I could lose my job, Douglas. My livelihood. My ''future, ''everything. And I could lose it all to one problem child with his academic career destroyed by street drugs. Street drugs, of all things. It’s pathetic.” He started unrolling the sleeves of his shirt, smoothing them out. “You’re a pathetic, monstrous, self-absorbed child, Douglas. I mean that.” “What is it you always say? It builds character? Or—no, sorry… that applies only to the assholes who shove other kids into lockers at Bullworth, doesn’t it?” “Character is built through endurance, boy, not through this achingly tortuous method of self-destruction you’ve set in motion. You used to have character, but you’re slowly killing it along with yourself,” Crabblesnitch berated coldly. “You’ve always had an unfortunate propensity for trouble, Douglas, but I’d rather see you with a black eye in the school infirmary than convulsing on my classroom floor and going without a pulse. This isn’t a fun game that you’re playing, my boy, this is your life that you’re playing with. What you’re putting into your body are dangerous, highly addictive, quite often fatal, substances. If you don’t smarten up, you will end up killed by your own hand.” Randy wanted to retort back at him, but the door to the room opened suddenly, cutting their acrid conversation short. A slightly overweight man – a beefy, fit-fat sort of overweight – stepped silently into the room, bringing with him an aura of power and condescension that Randy knew all too well. The man’s thinning, brown hair was slicked back, and his thick, bushy eyebrows knitted together as he surveyed the two other faces in the room with lazy green eyes. His scowl, a permanent feature, lifted slightly into a judgemental sneer as he loudly closed the hospital room door and clasped his hands behind his back. “Dad,” Randy greeted unenthusiastically and unceremoniously. “Mr. Douglas,” Crabblesnitch put his hand out to shake the man’s hand. “I’m Dr. Crabblesnitch.” “Doctor?” Mr. Douglas raised one bushy brow. He eyed Crabblesnitch’s hand before giving it a firm shake with a meaty hand. “PhD. History.” “Ah, you’re the one from the Academy.” Crabblesnitch made a tired gesture at Randy, who pulled his knees to his chest and was staring down at his linked fingers. “Your son is, ah…” Crabblesnitch shook his head, looking back at Randy, lost for words. “He’s… sick.” “Sick is too kind a word for it.” Mr. Douglas slowly approached the hospital bed, shouldering past Crabblesnitch. “Boy?” “… Dad…” “You’re causing more trouble than you’re worth, I hear?” Randy furrowed his brow, but didn’t look up. He didn’t say anything. Giving his father the dignity of a response was too good for him. Crabblesnitch awkwardly watched on from the sidelines, his own wiry brows knitted together. When the tension was evidentially too abrasive for him, he offered additional information for Randy’s father. “Randall, ah… he began convulsing during my class. He went into cardiac arrest shortly after.” “Yes, I heard you were the one who kept him breathing long enough to send me a hospital bill,” Mr. Douglas acknowledged absently. “Randall, you should be ashamed of yourself. Narcotics?” He put a steel behind the word that made Randy visibly wince, somehow managing to drag out the three-syllable word as if the word itself disgusted and appalled him. “Your mother lived in a bottle until the day she died, and now you’re using my money to destroy your body with narcotics. Did you think your uncle Bill’s passing wasn’t enough for me? I must lose you to this disease of the will, too? Shameful. Just shameful.” He reached into the inner breast pocket of his coal-black suit, pulling something small out and holding it between his index and middle finger. “We found this in your room at Harrington House.” He flicked it at Randy before returning his hands into a clasped position behind his back. It was a dime bag half-filled with a fine, white powder. “One of many.” Crabblesnitch’s eyes followed the small bag as it landed at Randy’s feet, suddenly going stiff at the sight of it. Randy shook his head in abhorrence, finally look up at his father. “You searched my room?” “I didn’t. Howard and Thomas did.” Mr. Douglas was speaking, of course, of the two goons that have been following him around for the last decade or so and acting as meat shields. Randy’s father had a much higher opinion of himself than most other people did, and thought himself something of a target to anyone and anything. The man went everywhere with his hulking bodyguards tailing behind him, and often used them as his hands. Randy’s known them for so long that they were like older brothers, and not in an entirely endearing way. That being said, Randy’s face went red at the thought of them going through his room and snitching to Mr. Douglas about any additional personal items they found. It wasn’t the first time his room has been pilfered, but he expected that at home. He thought his Harrington House room was safe, but obviously not. “I wouldn’t dare show my face on that campus again,” Mr. Douglas continued, “not after this ugly stunt. I’d be laughed out of town.” He turned, faced Crabblesnitch. “And what do you know of this situation?” Crabblesnitch’s eyes snapped up from the plastic bag at Randy’s feet, meeting the dark green eyes filled with thinly-veiled odium that pierced into him. Randy could sense that his father intimidated the man, but he knew all too well that Crabblesnitch’s personality was too similar to Mr. Douglas. There was no way one would be scared enough to back down from the other. Crabblesnitch had too much pride to get back into a corner by a business man pretending to be a 1930s two-bit gangster. Crabblesnitch flicked his eyes between Mr. Douglas, Randy, and back before he pulled his shoulders back, perhaps unconsciously, and lifted his chin. “Randall’s behaviour as of late has deteriorated. His classroom attendance has tapered. I don’t see him much through the week anymore. And… this was the first major incident brought to my attention.” “Is this true, boy?” Crabblesnitch bristled a little. “Why should I lie to you, Mr. Douglas?” “And why should Principal Hartwick lie about the large ‘charitable contributions’ he receives weekly from the Harrington family?” Mr. Douglas drawled with a half-smile on his face. He smiled like an alien that was trying to figure out the correlation between human emotions and facial expressions. “My son has a tendency to throw money at his problems.” Randy muttered “I wonder who taught me that…” under his breath. He was ignored. “I’ve been bribed before, but I’m not staking this boy’s life on the number in my bank account.” Mr. Douglas studied him seriously for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.” He looked back at Randy. “Boy,” he started sharply, “you are very lucky this wasn’t a major health complication. I spoke to your doctor. You’ll be released within a few days. Your bills are paid for. Call me once you’re back in Harrington House.” To Crabblesnitch, he said “I suppose I should thank you for saving the boy’s life.” “You’re welcome… sir.” “Mm…” Mr. Douglas distastefully grunted. He shouldered past Crabblesnitch again. “Clean up your act, boy, or you’ll lose more than just your place at graduation, if not your own damn life.” Randy didn’t say any lasting goodbyes to his father, barely even acknowledged that he left the room. It was a short meeting, straight to the point, just the way Randy preferred when the topic of his father was concerned. If he could avoid being in the same room as that man for longer than ten minutes, he'd take the opportunity over anything else. Once the door was shut, Crabblesnitch lurched forward, swiping the little bag off bed. His face creased with disgust, he gingerly rushed it into the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. “My father’s going to kill us both if he finds out your lied to him about those other times you helped me,” Randy stated emptily, unmoving from his spot on the hospital bed. “Or ruin your career. Whatever he’s in the mood for that day.” “Your father seems to care more about his reputation than your well-being. Frankly, I doubt he’d do anything about it, even if he did find out, because it would bring attention to the fact that his son is an addict.” Crabblesnitch called over his shoulder as he rinsed and dried his hands. He walked back into the main room. “I can see where your callous attitude is derived from. Be careful with that, my boy, or you’ll turn into that man – and something tells me that’s a worst-case scenario for you.” “Well, he’s not exactly my hero and inspiration in life.” Crabblesnitch watched Randy fidget for a moment, his lips pursed in thought. Then he walked around to the other side of the bed and collapsed in the visitor’s chair. He let out a tired breath, then said “You listen to me, Randall – and I’m going to say this not as your teacher, but as a concerned outsider. As it stands right now, you’re walking a mighty thin line between your first real rock bottom and actual potential of a future and a career. A mighty thin line, indeed. Should you continue down this path you’re on, it will be more difficult to retreat than you can imagine.” Crabblesnitch sat up, leaning forward slightly to try to catch Randy’s eye. “I neglected to tell your father of those other incidents because you deserve a second chance. You’re young yet. Problem children can reteach themselves the right way to function in society. It’s the problem adults that are really hopeless.” . . . . . . Angel and Randy ‘broke up’ not long after. It wasn’t much of a break-up. Randy told her he was gay, and then told her he needed a break from the smoke circle. She didn’t take it well, but let him go without too much trouble. She went quiet for a long while after that. Randy heard rumours that she was pregnant, but he didn’t inquire about it. He just wanted to cut ties with that group. The incident did shook him to his very core, and it was much harder to recover from it than he thought it would be. It wasn’t something he could just bounce back from. The withdrawal, the mood swings, the shame… it all just made him want to go back to it. He held out for a long time, too, about half a month. But, in a moment of weakness, he met up with Jesse. Jesse didn’t seem to shocked to hear about what happened to Randy, and even offered him harsh stuff despite hearing everything Randy was going through. In a last-minute bout of self-restraint, Randy turned it down and instead settled for some weed, leaving Jesse looking frustrated. The whole interaction left Randy with a weird feeling. When he was in a right enough mindset to do so, Randy started attending his classes more regularly. He and Crabblesnitch didn’t address each other unless they absolutely had to, though Randy would sometimes find himself trying to make grateful eye-contact and would quickly look away. Crabblesnitch would leave small notes on Randy’s work reading along the lines of ‘Excellent improvement,’ or ‘Much better work, Randall.’ It didn’t seem to matter the mark he actually received, the comments prevailed consistently on everything that was handed back to him. But while Crabblesnitch acted like nothing had happened, the rest of the school found Randy’s medical emergency something of a delicious tidbit. He was continuously reminded about what happened by other students who were eager to finally have something wholly applicable to hold against him. Even a few of his peers from Harrington House continued to bother him about it, including Troy. It was common knowledge around campus, and it hung over Randy’s head like a hungry guillotine blade. One day, Troy, in the hallway as Randy was passing, looked at the gaggle of other rich pricks that kept their noses in buried deep in his asshole and said “I think I’ve had too much to snort!” and started to twitch and gag, pretending to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Randy floored him and, after a kick to Troy’s side for good measure, threatened to do the same to everyone else in that hallway if they still thought it was funny. After that, the subject was rarely brought up. It was near the end of the school year when Crabblesnitch dared to bring up anything remotely related to the incident. He called for Randy to stay behind at the end of his class before he left for lunch break. Randy reluctantly did as he was told, sitting around on one of the desks as the rest of the students filed out of the room. Crabblesnitch closed the door after them and leaned on the front of his own desk, crossing his arms across his chest. There was a long pause of silence where they both stared at each other awkwardly, both obviously wanting to say something but not knowing where to start. They both had a lot of questions. Randy wanted to ask why Crabblesnitch was bothering anymore, but part of him knew better than to ask questions. Sometimes the answers weren’t worth knowing. Crabblesnitch finally plucked a question from the air. “Have you been keeping your nose clean, my boy?” “If you’re asking whether or not I’m keeping powder out of it, then… for the most part, yeah. My nose is clean.” Randy fidgeted, picking dirt from under his nails without meeting Crabblesnitch’s inquiring gaze. “It’s not been a cakewalk, but I’m trying. I guess I just needed a wakeup call.” “Well, that you certainly received.” Crabblesnitch linked his fingers and set his hands on his lap. “It’s good to hear, but I meant it in a less literal sense.” “Just the usual school spirit that you’d expect from a regular Bullworth student, sir.” “‘School spirit,’ how creative…” Crabblesnitch laughed dryly. “I like that. Is there anything else?” “Ah… nothing that’s too problematic.” “Good. And what of your father? Has he properly punished you for the trouble you’ve caused?” “He hasn’t spoken to me since I got back to Harrington House, sir.” “How charming of him.” Randy shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. There’s nothing for him to say that he hasn’t already said. He’s not one for life lesson lectures, he doesn’t have a firm grasp on the concept of ‘teachable moments,’ as you call them. And it goes without saying that he’s not one for empathy and comfort, either.” Randy waited a moment, expecting Crabblesnitch to make further comments. When he didn’t, Randy slowly asked “Um… is there anything else, or…?” “No, Randall. I just wanted to… check in with you. I wanted to see how you were doing.” He paused, worry creasing his face. “That was quite the ordeal you had yourself in. One that I don’t think any child should have to have the displeasure of experiencing.” “It was really stupid.” “That too.” “I didn’t know what my limits were. Didn’t much care, either.” “Now that you do, I hope you keep them in mind moving forward.” “Yeah, well… I just wanna get out of this place. Go to college, do something. I need to keep myself in one piece long enough to do that.” “College? To prepare to inherit your father’s… ‘business?’” “I don’t want anything to do with his business. I think I just want to get my bachelor’s in theater arts, maybe do playwrighting or something like that.” “That’s a humble plan.” “It’s better than becoming my father.” “That we will agree on.” They both laughed half-heartedly, and then went quiet again. Randy could feel the pity wafting off of Crabblesnitch, even with the generous distance between them. He had an idea of what was coming next, and he wasn’t wrong. Crabblesnitch cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask what prompted it all?” “A little.” “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me, that’s fine. But I’m under no obligations to tell anyone else. It has no reason to leave this classroom, nor will it ever.” “Why…?” Crabblesnitch deliberated on his answer like it was a fine wine. Then he sighed inwardly, glancing out the nearby windows to temporarily break eye-contact. “You strike me as a young man who needs someone to talk to when he experiences his qualms. But, from what I can glean, you don’t have anyone to talk to. And because of that, you make stupid choices.” “You’re not my therapist.” “It’s simply my perception, boy. And a little bit of human decency for good measure.” Randy standoffishly shrugged. He didn’t really want to get into the whole reasoning behind it, especially considering he’d have to out himself just to do it. Instead, he said “It was a spur the moment choice after a breakup. It wasn’t very smart, and I know that. But… I didn’t feel like I had anything to lose. And I have the money, so I thought… why not? And… and it just escalated from there.” “Well,” Crabblesnitch pushed off his desk, “next time, talk to someone. Don’t just act impulsively in the most self-destructive way possible. There are healthier methods of dealing with heartbreak. Cardiac arrest is not one of them.” Randy slipped off the desk, taking that as a cue that their meeting was closing to an end. “I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Crabblesnitch.” “Before you go, my boy, I want to give you something.” Crabblesnitch grabbed something off his desk. A little beige business card, probably meant more so for parents and other faculty members on the board. He handed it to Randy. “Should you want or need it.” Randy frowned at it. “I’m not your pet project, sir.” Regardless, he took the card, shoving it in a pocket. “But… thanks. I guess.” He gave Crabblesnitch a polite nod and started on his way out. “Keep that nose clean, my boy,” Crabblesnitch warned after him. “Literally and figuratively.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 22 Years Later – “Tea?” Randy sat down on the small, plush couch across from Crabblesnitch in the main office. As Randy got comfortable. Crabblesnitch looked up from the white teacup he was carefully pouring hot water into. “Sure. You can never go wrong with a good cup of tea.” From the gleaming metal tray on the coffee table, Crabblesnitch retrieved another white teacup and prepared it for Randy, setting the sugar bowl out for him to use if he wanted. “I had Ms. Denvers prepare some water ahead of time. I told her you might be by.” He slid the small, steaming teacup across the coffee table toward Randy. “It’s Earl Grey. Feel free to doctor it the way you prefer.” “Thanks.” Randy dropped a couple cubes of sugar into his tea and stirred it. Then he sat back, cozying himself in the seat. “Well, let’s get on with the small talk, then. What’ve you been up to the last two decades, other than…” Randy paused, gesturing to the office with his arm stump, “… running the worst school in this county?” “About the same thing I was doing when you were a student here. Teaching, guiding, and helping problem children.” “Helping them – is that what this looks like?” Crabblesnitch stiffened. “Admittedly, it’s not an easy job. Surely you, of all people, can attest to that. But it’s worth it. And the academic environment builds character.” “Same old Crabblesnitch, same old philosophies… only now you have an actual office and an assistant.” “Apparently so.” Crabblesnitch let that hang in the air for a moment, taking a careful sip from his tea. He blinked slowly and tentatively set his teacup down in his saucer. “I was more curious to learn of what happened to you after you dropped out.” “Well, the--… The crash kinda… screwed me over.” Randy wiggled his stump, which was all that remained of his left arm. “It didn’t leave me with high hopes for graduating, let alone… a normal life. I only planned to miss a year, but it just didn’t seem possible for me to go back to school when the time actually came, so... I just never went back. And, of course, my old man didn’t like that, so the inheritance money was entirely taken away from me.” “I remember that man well enough to believe it. Do you mind if I ask about… the accident?” “Oh, I don’t mind. It was a long time ago, now. I’ve been without this arm a lot longer than I’ve been with it. And, as much as I miss having two hands, I’m used to it – along with the questions that come with it.” The kids were the worst for it. Some of them thought it was ‘cool’ that he was missing an arm, but most of the just wanted to know how he lost it. “My old dealer wanted to try to blackmail me into buying his garbage for our old smoke circle, said he found out who my father was and intended to tell him that I was back to my old ways. Turns out, he was so hard-up for money that he was even trying to prostitute some of the girls from the group I ran with, too. He was just trying to make the sort of money he used to funnel off of me. The idiot…” “How awful.” “Yeah, well… I obviously didn’t want to cooperate with him. He got hands—on and I fought back, which he didn’t like. He stuffed me in his car, tried to bring me to his awful, little crack den. I tried to get out of the car, he tried to keep me in while also trying to drive, and… well, the rest is pretty telltale. My arm sustained most of the injury, obviously. But I was the lucky one. He was turned into a vegetable.” “I’m sorry.” “Like I said, it was a long time ago. I let it bother me for a lot longer than I should have, but I’m at peace with things now.” Randy gave a grim smirk. “The guy’s dead, anyways – his life support was officially pulled about five years ago. So, I’m not really holding any grudges.” “I’m… sorry.” “Your record’s stuck.” “I just—I mean, I apologize for not checking in on you after the incident.” “That wasn’t your obligation.” “But I should have.” “Look, you were just some poor schmuck with probably just as many daddy issues as me. You felt bad and made the mistake of helping me once, effectively getting yourself involved in something you really didn’t ask for.” “Yes, but… It just seems like something I should have done. Perhaps I could have helped.” Randy scoffed. “I was able to take care of myself pretty well, even after my father excommunicated me from his life. I would’ve just been more trouble you didn’t need.” “I had thought about looking into your status, but I thought it was best not to involve myself unless you asked for it, even if you were ''no longer my student. When I'd heard nothing of you for so long, I convinced myself you'd either left town, or--...” Crabblesnitch caught himself. There was a hint of guilt wavering his voice, though he kept himself professionally composed. “Why ''didn’t you ask for any help?” “Like I said, I was able to handle myself, for the most part. I was too proud to ask for help, I felt like I needed to maintain whatever dignity I had left. I’d lost an arm, my future, my money… most people I came into contact immediately pitied me because of my arm, saying stuff like ‘It’s so amazing that someone with your disability can do so much,’ and all that crap. My ex-wife, she was the worst for it. Didn’t need any more. I… thought about it, though. Contacting you, I mean.” “Ah.” “But I should have.” “Of course you should have. I wouldn’t have offered assistance if I didn’t mean it.” “Yeah, well… there isn’t too much else to say after that. Got married, like I mentioned. Raised some money for program to finish my high school credentials, did one of those fancy dancy online college courses. I… came out as gay… got a divorce… That was… an ordeal. Um.” Randy chewed on the inside of his lip. He stared into his cup of tea. “I kinda lost it again after all that. You know, depression, self-deprecation… self-medication… I fell back into my old habits, a lot harder than ever before. Long story short, my ex was the one who convinced me to submit myself to Happy Volts.” His ex-wife was probably more understanding than she should have been. Randy knew it was mostly because she felt bad for him, but he appreciated that she cared. She genuinely loved him. He always did, and always will, feel guilty that he couldn’t love her back the way she wanted him to. “And that helped you, I see.” “Oh, god, no. That place is a hellhole. Half he people who work there are underqualified, the patrons are like wild animals, and the conditions are third-world.” Randy laughed, pulling his eyes up from his teacup. “It didn’t help in the conventional sense. But it opened my eyes, and it helped me kick my… bad habits. I’m better now. Have been for a while, thankfully. And I’ve been just taking the time to enjoy that, I think. Having a clear head after going so long without one… it’s indescribable.” “For what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you clean, sober, and healthy. You’re finally in the prime of your life, Randall.” Crabblesnitch caught himself after the fact, and start to correct himself to say “Mr. Douglas,” but stopped when Randy shook his head with an annoyed look. “I made a grave mistake in asking that of you. I’ve been called Mr. Douglas all day for the first time in years, and I’ve never felt more like my father. I’d much prefer to hear Randy, even Randall, from my coworkers, at the very least.” Less dryly and far more earnestly, he added “And… thanks. I think I’m a long way from rock bottom these days. This school isn’t exactly Harvard, but you know what? I don’t think I’d rather be anywhere else. This place is like an old slipper.” “I feel ought to resent what ever that means.” “Well, don’t.” Randy grinned, lifting his teacup to his face. Before taking a long sip, he said “It’s just full of character.” It was Crabblesnitch’s turn to put on a sardonic act. “Oh, how clever.” Randy chuckled, setting his own teacup on the table. “So, can I'' ask ''you something, now?” “We’ll see. What is it?” “You’ve got a kiddy tiddler, an alcoholic, an actual crook, and at least four psychos working here. Yet, when I handed you my résumé, you balked to even looked at it. Why’d you hesitate so much when it came to me, but not with these other scums of the earth?” “We can discuss the issues I have with those descriptions another time. For you, my boy, I only knew a young addict. To say that I trusted you weren’t still that addict when you assured me so would be lying. I didn’t know whether or not you changed for the better. But… I wanted to give you a second chance.” “What do you mean ‘second’ chance? This has gotta be, what, my fortieth chance? Something in that general ballpark.” “When you were younger, you didn’t have it in you to do something honest and meaningful with your life. I was afraid of what or who you’d become. You never gave yourself enough credit for the good you actually did. Others did. Others wanted to. I had to do most of that for you. Now, I see that you not only have the necessary willpower to give yourself the kind of positive feedback and support that you need, but you also have the willpower to change.” Crabblesnitch paused, holding an earnest gaze. He said “If you were my son, I’d be very proud of you. In fact, I am regardless. You’ve shaped into a fine, upstanding, respectable man.” “Well… I finally got help.” Crabblesnitch chuckled, picking up his tea with a toothy grin. “Indeed, you finally got help. It only took you a car crash, a failed marriage, and about 20 years. But here you are. And I’d say that’s as good a success story as any to come out of this school in the last three decades.” Crabblesnitch raised his teacup and gave Randy a crooked smile. “Welcome back to Bullworth, my boy.” Category:Blog posts